Angels

I ve been through a lot of hardship in my life. Choices made without considering consequences, losses to death or circumstance, illness, lots of hardship. I have not always been gracious and grateful for what I did have though I constantly worked to try to find the positive and the beauty and wonder in every situation. I believe, truly, if one has no sense of possibility, then there is no reason to get out of bed. I am not ashamed of my past nor secretive about it. I can only say I learned from it. I learned to grow all my own food, to bake my own bread, to raise chickens for the eggs, creative ways to find to pay for crisis repairs like when lightning struck and destroyed the water pump to my well in 2004. I selected the trees, cut them down, chopped and stacked the logs to heat my house. I gathered wild food stuffs and I survived steeped in wilderness beauty. i found reassurance in that Earth, forest, fields, does not care whether I live or die. The sustaining beauty is merciless and yet, in some way, I found comfort in that knowledge. The peepers will rise to sing come spring long after I am gone. Earth will still breathe with her great green and brown and blue breast, rising and falling in life cycles. I became reconnected to her at a time period in my life when many parts of it were at their lowest. ften those years, I wanted to creep into the winter woods to lie down among the trees and fade away.
However, I chose not to. I chose to work as hard as I could at my craft of writing. for in the woods, the voice of my poetry muse began once again, to speak to me. I added visual art as well in photography, and then drawing art trading cards. Finally I started some art lessons and after a brief period doing this, juried into a museum show, started selling my works, and have among other achievments a position as artist in residence at a music center now. During my journey, I reconnected with a distant relative through art.
We had become estranged due to circumstance and each, our private hardships. I emailed him a few years ago when the opportunity arose. he did not reoly so I began to think ” How do you reach a man? What is it men ask each other? What is it they want to know?” so I sent him copies of my chapbooks and emailed photos of art. Bingo! He replied. And we connected over our shared interest in painting. He died this year. I recently learned that he remembered all of his relatives, including me, in his will. This will make a difference in my life. I wish I could sit down with him and hug him. I am so thankful that during the years I wanted to die in the forest, somebody remembered me. So I d like to say to my readers, cherish your family and friends. reach out to the lonely, the “misfits”, and treat those you care about wiht tenderness and kindness. Love them now, while you have the chance.
And when you go, always always, no matter how successful you are, turn around and reach out to someone new coming up the ladder, especially in the arts.